


The Language Of Flowers

by Rixxy8173571m3W1p3



Series: The Fluffy Adventures With Your Boyfriend Doofus Rick [28]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Adorable Doofus Rick (Rick and Morty), Beaches, Books, Bouquets, Busy With Work, Candy, Caring, Character Development, Cryptic Flowers, Doofus Rick Being Sweet, Established Relationship, F/M, Flower Shops, Flowers, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Gift Giving, Hidden meanings, Hugs, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I REGRET NOTHING, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Language of Flowers, Necklaces, One of My Favorites, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Romantic Fluff, Shopping, Sunsets, Trying to Understand, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Uncertainty, Writers, time apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 12:44:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13998600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3/pseuds/Rixxy8173571m3W1p3
Summary: DWC prompt: Zeta-7 using the language of flowers to send you a bouquet.





	The Language Of Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hoodoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/gifts).



Moonlit evenings came and went, and you followed the usual routine you had unconsciously set for yourself. Usually, you'd be out with Zeta-7, snuggled up together on the couch, or exploring alien planets and the like, but not tonight. On his latest assignment, you had only seen him a handful of times because of the major time differences, as well as to certain travel restrictions. Sometimes he'd be dressed in ways which made him unrecognizable, other times, he'd come by with his clothing torn to shreds, hanging on literally by the threads, but all the same you'd be happy to see him, even if for a couple of seconds at a time. Really it was fine, you told yourself, it was all good, and you wouldn't bother him more then you had to, but the time seemed to stretch on without him around. A week, two weeks, three weeks passed, agonizingly, and painfully slow. 

When was he gonna come back home? And fill the expanse of your house? To stretch himself out on the couch when you were finishing your work? To interrupt your disconcerting thoughts with the brightness of his wit and charm? Oh, what have you become?

Sometimes it made you wonder if that's what The Doctors companions felt after their perception of the universe was expanded. Their small, colorless lives, suddenly blooming with color. Did that make Zeta-7 the Doctor in your universe? Perhaps, it did.

During the quiet moments, when you found yourself at a loss as to how you'd spend the day, you'd call him to see if he'd need anything, or if his plants needed tending to. Or he'd call you, and if he found a few minutes, he'd just come in person, and hold you. And you barely had enough time to take in his presence, before he was gone again. Whether you were up, or asleep, you'd dream about him, of his house, of him cooking, of the usual activities you two did together. Sometimes, in the night, you'd even sense his comforting presence, but you'd open your eyes and find no one there; perhaps that was the most unpleasant part about it all.

Still, life went on as it did.

You worked on your latest rough draft, a bit stumped as to how you were going to end it. You thought of plot twists, killing off a character, or the good ol’ cliffhanger, but none of those solutions seemed good enough. You rubbed at your tired eyes, and decided this was probably a good time for some tea. There was a loose hibiscus tea mix in the rounded tin, sitting in the third cabinet if your memory serves correctly.Shuffling into the kitchen, you yawned, lazily opening cabinets, until you spotted the bouquet. 

It was massive, every petal and leaf impossibly perfect, and it would be a good five minutes before you believed they could actually be for you. Made up of pink and red camellias, red asters, red rosebuds, light red carnations, deep red carnations, and pink daisies, you wondered if there was a theme involved in Ricks choice. Red and pink flowers in themselves seemed romantic enough, but you turned the vase, searched for a note, but you only found a book. Hmm, The Language Of Flowers by Kate Greenaway. Passing your hands over the cover, you could tell there was some age to it, and inside there was a lovely collection of illustrations, as well as poems, and Zeta-7s distinctive footnotes in the margins.

You held the book tightly to your chest, as though someone would dare come take it from you. Page after page, there was precise notes, pertaining to their care, availability, as well as personal thoughts to their beauty. You were touched by the volume of handwriting; this book must have been a personal favorite of his, but what did this mean? If he entrusted it to you, did that mean you were supposed to decode their meaning? Knowing him, it seemed like something he would do, and the book was somehow a clue.

You flipped through a few pages until you found a list of flower names, and next to them familiar looking flower illustrations.

First was the Pink camellias which meant _longing for you_ , while the red camellias meant _You're a flame in my heart_. You blushed, eager to see what the other flowers meant. Asters were known as _a talisman of love and a symbol of patience_ , red rosebuds meant _pure and lovely_ , while light red carnations meant _admiration_. Deep red carnations meant _deep love and affection_ , and finally pink daisies meant _youth, innocence and joy_ , while all together the daisy meant _gentleness, purity and loyalty_.

“Oh Rick.” you sighed.

So, you weren't the only one missing the other. Tears bit at your eyes, your insides an ooey gooey mess. For quite some time you had suspected that his feelings were more deeply felt then yours, but did that mean you had been taking it for granted? Or for granite as he would say. 

They were beautiful, and no doubt they were expensive. Perhaps they were from the Citadel Flower Shop, which had some of the freshest flowers in the multiverse. You had only seen it once, but you remembered it's loveliness very clearly. Outside it's entrance were dozens of bouquets, of the typical sort of flowers one might see in any ol’ flower shop, but inside there were the largest, freshest, and bizarre variety of plants and flowers you had ever seen. Displayed in the window were blooming orchids, behind them were sunflowers as tall as you were. 

There was a section of carnivorous plants, an enclosed section of the beautiful, but deadly, the sentient, and other bizarre categories which gave you the creeps. Zeta-7 had been so excited to show you the place, of the species which were exclusive to the Citadel, and overall seemed confident in his plant knowledge, much to Florist Ricks annoyance. You remembered Florist Rick, and his Mort of the Valley, how attentive he had been to you, and his indifference to your Rick. While you weren't fond of him, his Morty was fascinating, even if deadly. It had been one of the highlights of the visit, and there was no doubt that at least some these flowers were from there.

In your mind's eye, the apples of his cheeks were dusted with a blush. Happy to be surrounded by his plant friends, he'd greet them with gentle affection, though be flustered if one questioned his motives. Perhaps, in a voice reserved only for them, the flowers were blessed to spread their charm upon your soul, and return from whence they came with a different shading they might not remember. And all the same, Zeta-7 would face Florist Rick with a glowing, misunderstood resilience which he had learned from stems and branches of his youth, of the dust, of every sunlit corner which knew him by name.

Hmm, but even so you would rather have Rick. 

His wonderful, dorky, smiling self, who caused tiny miracles, as well as erupt tiny disasters. For now, you had these living reminders, that he cared for you, more than you could possibly know.

* * *

For the rest of the day, you cleaned, worked a little more on your story, and made a nice dinner. Well, edible enough to eat sort of dinner. By the time you went to bed, you were so tired, that in less than five minutes, you fell asleep. At some point during the night, you felt a familiar comforting presence, which made you stir. You tried to open your eyes, but they were so heavy. 

“Ri…Rick?” you called out in a sleep laced voice.

Now, you had not expected results, but as your humble servant, you heard his footsteps, followed by the rustling of clothes; he was there, somewhere in the darkness. You groaned, trying the fight the sedative effects of your meds. Zeta-7 gasped, rushed over, and kneeled beside your bed. Caressing your hair, he said in a low, calm voice.“Shhh, it's okay, I'm - I'm here.”

“Rick?” you asked, more confident in your questioning.

“Mhm,” he cooed. “it's okay, go back t-t-to sleep.”

No, you screamed silently in the recesses of your mind. You made a sound of refusal, and he chuckled. “Gosh, I can't - I-I can't refuse you can I?”

Even as drowsy as you were, you held your arms open, waiting for him. His rough, calloused hands brushed hair away from your cheeks, and leaning closer, his breath feathered your ears. “I doubt I-I-I-I ever could.”

Mystified, you whispered his name a third, and final time, as though he would disappear if you managed to forget his name. Yet, unlike the fairy stories, he remained, reassuring you with his light touches. Oh, there was a charm to the night, romantic, intimate, but with Rick, it was comforting. At last, you felt the warmth of his lanky body, so familiar with the way it moved, the smell of vanilla and something so him, the sound of his heart beating, and all of it felt so right.

“I missed you Rick,” Came your small, vulnerable, girlish voice. “It's been a little lonely without you around.”

Pressing a kiss on your forehead, he replied.“I-I missed you too.”

Lazily you passed your fingers through his hair, which was pressed to the sides of his head. “Why is your hair wet? Did you go swimming?”

“No, I ugh, I had just taken a shower.”

“No wonder.”

“No wonder w-w-what?”

“Why you smell so good.” you giggled, which made you feel like a dork, and you covered your face to try and hide your embarrassment.

“Thank you,” he replied in his good natured way. “I'm ugh - I'm glad you think so.” 

“Sorry Rick,” you yawned. “I'm really sleepy, and I can't think of anything interesting to say. Literally, the only thing that really comes to mind is ‘Soylent Green is people!’, which is weird isn't it?”

“I'm the one who should be sorry. It's late, and I know it was selfish of me t-t-to show up w-w-without warning, out of the blue. I-I-I probably woke you, and I should - I should go and let you sleep.”

It might have been your half delirious mind at work, or the side effects of your medication, but you were afraid to let go. What if this was the last time you saw him? You held him a fraction tighter, a little more alert, but still very drowsy. “But I don't want you to go. Couldn't you stay a little longer?”

The soft light of the moon cast shadows across his face, and exaggerated his displeasure.

“I-I-I-I wish I could mi corazón.”

“Please?”

“I-I can't.”

Reluctantly you acquiesced, and loosened your grip, but before leaving he captured your mouth in desperation, like a man without air, lips parted, breaths mingled, his words muffled by his urgency, but all too soon he was gone, and you were left wondering if you had merely dreamed it.

* * *

In the morning, there was another bouquet. The first bouquet had been unexpected enough, but now wasn't he just spoiling you? Nonetheless, the feeling of intense, happy aliveness was overwhelming as you searched for the meaning of today's flowers. This time there was yarrow which meant _Cure for heartache_ , forget me nots which _meant true love_ , sweet alyssum which _meant Worth beyond beauty_ , Pyramidal Bell Flower which meant _Constancy_ , globe amaranth which meant _Unfading Love_ , blue salvia which meant _I think of you_ , red salvia meant _forever mine_ , surrounded by cedar leaves which meant _I live but for thee and Think of me_. So, you didn't dream it after all. 

There were times when you questioned half of your memories, some which were clouded, others which were clear, and you could hardly decipher between reality and a dream. Why, you had taken to just believing it was so, and you'd need Rick to remind you, but this time you were sure. Rick had been visiting, even if briefly just to see you, and to deliver the flowers. Thinking back to last night, when you could hear his heart beating, in the quiet of the room, felt his arms, and heard his calm voice, you felt more at home, than the place you slept at each night.

That's it, you were determined to stay up, so that you would see him. You drank coffee, despite knowing it aggravated your anxiety, and had a rom-com movie marathon, and you weren't sure when, but you had closed your eyes, and fallen asleep. When you woke, you found yourself in bed. It was three in the morning, and you knew it was well past his break time. Damn it.

* * *

You took an early morning walk, finding an excuse to visit to the drug store when you ran out of pens. As you would, you glanced at the new books, magazines, and bought some candy. You usually kept a bowl of chocolate, or hard candy around for Rick to snack on, and you were fortunate to find there was a buy one get one sale. In the end, you realized that half way on your way home, you had forgotten to buy pens. When you got home, there was a another bouquet, this time on the side table closest to the door.

You set the groceries down, and fetched the book to decrypt today's group of flowers.

Red Columbine meant _Anxious and trembling_ , Pink Convolvulus meant _Worth sustained by judicious and tender affection_ , American cowslip meant _Divine beauty and You are my divinity_ , white clovers meant _Think of me, Laurestina meant I die if neglected_ , and fennel meant _Worthy of all praise and Strength_. Oh dear, today he must have been having one of those days. You tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. All you could do was leave a message, and see if that helped.

* * *

Of course, the flowers didn't come every day, but nearly every day. You admired his perseverance, it must have been difficult to find the running back and forth, delivering your flowers, and handling whichever duties they had him do. To find the time, to even pick them out must have been tiring, but you appreciated every bit of it. 

One day you received a gooseberry bush which meant _Anticipation_ , and found a sketch of hemlock which meant _You will be the death of me_ , and a sketch of Love in a Mist which meant _You perplex me_. Another day you found a pot of Lupine flowers which meant _Imagination_ , and rose of Sharon which meant _Consumed by Love_. Another day it was Mezereon flowers which meant _Desire to please_ , and another day Milkvetch which meant _Your presence softens my pains_. The flowers did all the talking for him and almost acted like a mood ring; some days were better, others worse. They also seemed to act as his subtle flirtations; how Victorian of him.

Another day there were peach blossoms which meant _I am your captive_ , and another day was baby's breath which meant _Innocence and Pure of Heart_ , another day Dog roses which meant _Pleasure and Pain_ , and maiden blush roses which meant _If you love me, you will find it out_ , then Scarlet Lychnis which meant _Sunbeaming eyes_ , spindle trees which meant _Your charms are engraven on my heart_ , Swallow-wort which meant _Cure for heartache_ , and Venice Sumach meant _Intellectual excellence and Splendour_.

These flowers soon became living responsibilities, which you cared for according to your research. Yet, for some reason they seemed to be more resilient than the usual blooms they sold in shops around town. At first it annoyed you to bits, being forgetful as you were, but after a week, it came to be an activity you enjoyed. You'd talk to them, and while they were but ornamental friends which would not mind if you paid more attention to one then the other, you somehow hoped they were affected. And little by little, it seemed you were learning about Rick, and how his sadate activities were not to be reckoned with.

* * *

One evening, three weeks after you had received the first bouquet, you saw the familiar green glow, and stopped what you were doing to stare at the man and the bouquet that threatened to swallow him. “Rick?”

As ever, he was all smiles and delightfulness. “I was given leave for a few hours and I-l-I brought you these.”

“Protea flowers?”

With raised brow, he seemed genuinely shocked, stunned almost. “Y-y-you’ve heard of them?” his voice above a whisper.

“Well, after receiving all the flowers, and reading the book you left, I started doing research, and let's say I know a lot more about flowers now then I did three weeks ago. You know, I think I have more than enough flowers to open up a shop. Isn't that a neat idea? Oh, but everything I touch dies so that probably won't work. However, I am curious as to why all these flowers you brought me haven't died yet. It's probably science right? Or magic, maybe both. Either way, I honestly never thought I would receive so many.”

“I'm sorry, I know it's - I've probably over did it again.”

“Hmm,” you smiled up at him. “I wouldn't say that. I'd say it was more like everyday there was a new mystery I had to solve, and I'd find a secret message intended just for me. Almost like mission impossible, minus the explosions.”

The wheels of his mind were turning, and he studied you. “Why - why are you like this?” 

“What do you mean Rick?”

“You put up with so much. I know it's not - it's not easy being with me. You might not complain, about how I-I-I sometimes put you in danger, cause small fires, and come over, just to - just to fall asleep on the couch.”

“That doesn't bother me.”

The lines of his forehead deepened. “I-I know, but it - I think about the age differences sometimes. I'm old,” he sniffled. “so much older then you, and I know that sometimes you'd - you'd rather do youthful activities, but y-y-you like me despite all that. That's why,” he softened.“I-I-I-I brought you Protea flowers, which mean _diversity, courage and strength_. It takes certain kinds of people to deal with Ricks, let alone me and I - I appreciate you. You are priceless to me, and I-I-I wanted you to know that.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about. Just, thank you for all the flowers, I love them, and what they mean. Hopefully, Florist Rick wasn't too hard on you.”

“Not at all.”

“Oh, that reminds me, I got something for you.”

From in between the pages of the book, you took out the pressed four leaf clover. “I know it isn't a flower, but I was able to find this, and it's an answer to your cryptic flowers.”

Setting his bouquet down on the counter, he accepted it, and pressed it to his heart. After a couple minutes, you began to worry since he hadn't said anything. You waved your hand in front of him, seeing as he was short circuiting or something. “Rick? Are you okay?”

Placing it inside his breast pocket, he held you by the shoulders “Can I?”

“Yes.”

Bending down, he captured your mouth in a firm kiss. Wrapping your arms around him, you leaned into him. God, you had missed this man, but all too soon, he back away. “I really wish I could stay.”

“Couldn't you?”

Looking at his watch, he smiled. “but I have enough time to take you somewhere.”

* * *

Waves washed away the footsteps in the sand, and for once forgetting your shoes worked in your favor, for you could enjoy the feeling of sand between your toes. Seagulls cried in the distance, and and the wind had your hair whipping about your face. Despite the warmer temperatures, you still found yourself shivering, but Zeta-7 placed his lab coat about your shoulders, and continued to lead you to his favorite spot. A few times along the way, you stopped to pick up shells you found interesting, and with his permission you placed them in his coat pockets. This was new for you, considering you had never gone to the beach before; it was nice, since the sandy shore seemed to stretch out as far as the eye could see, going somewhere and nowhere. 

Finally, you two come up to a large flat rock among a group of larger, rounded rocks, and took a seat. In silence, you two watched as the sky took the on the hues of burnt reds, oranges, pinks, and violet, like a symphony of color, until it was night. 

“I have never seen a sunset like that before,” you beamed. “is it like that all the time?”

“I-I-I don't know, but what I do know is that in the - in the winter time, Florida skies are clear, and I know how much y-y-you despise the cold temperatures, so I thought this would be a-a-a pleasant change.”

You slipped your hand impulsively into his as you sometimes did. “I see why seniors come here to retire. By the way, where is everyone?”

“This isn't a-a-a popular beach,” he shrugged. “so it's usually secluded.”

“Do you like secluded places Rick? It seems to be a trend with you, and I worry about it sometimes.”

“I'm not - I'm not trying to seclude myself,” he sighed. Observing the Sanderlings, he quieted for a bit, ruminating on what to say. Kissing your hand, he found the courage to look back at you. “though it sort of looks that way doesn't it? I ugh - I guess it's because there aren't that many places where I feel comfortable, and but when I find them they're a treasure. When I'm alone, sometimes I think about where I belong, if what I do matters,” giving your hand a squeeze, his voice became happier, light, and tender, his gaze more serious than ever. “but then I remember you, and my plants, and it - it sort of goes away.”

“But you do matter, and everything you have done matters, because if something has meaning to you, then that's all that matters. You taught me that.”

“Hohoho, then I'm - I'm probably forgetting. Oh, that's - that's what happens when y-y-you get old.”

“I like your age Rick, it's one of your best qualities. Though, when you said that you thought about the age difference between us, it reminded me of a question I've had for a while. Does it ever make you think about your mortality?”

Again he was quiet, and watched the push and pull of the waves. And when he seemed satisfied as to what he would say, he let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “I try not to think about it.”

“Hmm, that's probably a good thing. Either way, let's try to enjoy our time together while we can. Okay?”

* * *

 “Uh oh, I-I-I have to go soon.”

“Well, let's go home then. I wouldn't want you to forget your shoes.”

“Wait, there's something else I wanted to give you. It's ugh, it's in my inner, left lab coat pocket.”

You felt around, laughing when you found pieces of candy, and took hold of the lightweight chain. “A necklace,” you gasped. “it looks just like a crystal, but it isn't is it?”

Scratching the back of his neck, he nodded.“Yeah, it ugh, disguises the circuitry. If you're ever in any danger, just squeeze it, and it will transport you t-t-to a safe room. I'm hoping nothing ever comes up, but it's - it's a precaution.”

Right away you put it on, and admired its loveliness. “I'll cherish it.”

“The case I'm working on will be over soon, and then we'll go on - on all sorts of adventures.”

“I'd like that, but until then please come see me, anytime, even if I'm sleeping.”

“You knew?”

Staring off into the moonlit night, you were comforted in knowing that after today, this would be another treasured memory. “I always knew, but it didn't bother me, because you're not the kind of person who intrudes, and I did tell you you're welcome to come by anytime. So, don't hold back. You know where I am, and I'll be waiting.”

“Okay.”

“And when your case is over, I was wondering if you'd teach me something?”

“About what?”

Smiling up at him, you sighed. “Everything.”

This time it was his turn to gasp, and worry passed over his face, but he nodded. Later, when you got home, you finally found a way to end the story, which in its own right seemed like the beginning of something bigger, mysterious, but bright.

 


End file.
